A Godless World
by Napoleon Clocks
Summary: I have not come this far to die now. Nick/Ellis.


I felt so sad writing this. By the way, in this there's a past Nick/Ellis, this isn't completely random.

I don't own Left 4 Dead.

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"The Godless World"

"Nick," Ellis said and he was suddenly laughing from relief, on the verge of tears from the pain. "Nick, there's the bridge. It's the goddamn bridge."

"Don't stop, Overalls," said Nick and his hand closed around Ellis', pulling him onto the walking lane. "We have to hurry if we're going to catch up with them."

"We're gonna make it, Nick, we're gonna make it!"

Even as he said it, the first infected came towards him. With arms shaking from the strain, but moving to the perfect position through practice, he raised his shotgun and pulled the trigger. That was just the first one to fall. Together they ran, keeping themselves untouchable, shooting down anything that came their way. All Ellis could think was, _we're going to make, we're going to make it! _It repeated in his head over and over, a mantra of hope.

For the first time since they set foot in New Orleans and the bombs started dropping, he could ignore the pain. It didn't matter that his inner organs were cut up almost as badly as his skin from multiple Witch and Hunter attacks, that his neck and face had claw marks from Jockeys, that his arm was injured from a Tank attack and his ribs were broken, he had acid burns from Spitters, or that he supported as many scratches from normal infected as there were water molecules in the ocean. It didn't seem to matter to Nick, either, that he was only a bit better off, body destroyed from many Smoker attacks and common infected. All that mattered now was the helicopter at the end of this goddamn bridge and Rochelle and Coach waiting for them.

Getting separated from them had been horrible and getting separated from Nick had been twice as bad. Before now, Nick'd gone the majority of the time with very few wounds (Ellis, being the bad luck magnet that he was, got the most), and now he was half dead. They shouldn't have let each other out of their sights.

"We have to climb up that truck," said Nick, panting, shooting a Charger as it came towards them. It took three bullets before it died. Ellis would have helped, but he was too busy shooting at the horde. "Think you can make it?"

""Course I can," said Ellis, trying to sound as optimistic as he could.

An infected ran towards him. In the beginning, he'd hated the idea of shooting an infected child, but by now his mind had dropped the child. They were all the same. It was better to put them out of their misery than stand by, thinking of moral reason why it was wrong to save his and his friends' lives. He and Nick climbed the latter of the truck and pulled themselves onto the higher level of the bridge. They were almost there. They only needed to be murderers for a little longer, then they would be safe. It would all be over.

The helicopter, it was in sight. The sound blared over the cries of horde. Nick started laughing and Ellis joined in. Never in his life had he been so relieved, not even when he found out that Keith was going to survive getting ninety-five percent of his body burned. Jesus Christ in a handcart, this was the happiest moment of his life.

"Almos' there, Nick," he found himself saying, even if he was just stating the obvious. "Almos' there."

"I know." The grip on his hand tightened and they weaved their way through the pile up of cars as quickly as they could, shooting only what they had to. "Fuck, when we get on the helicopter, I'm going to kiss you so hard you'll forget your own name."

"Sounds good to me," he answered and even as he said it, he felt something slimy and cold touch his back. "Awe, shit." It came out as the faintest whisper because he knew he couldn't stop it—the Smoker's tongue wrapped tightly around him, causing him to drop his gun, yanking him from Nick's hand, pulling and dragging him across the ground.

"Wait—what—Ellis?" he heard Nick say, though he couldn't see the man. He must have recovered quickly, though, because Ellis was free, coughing, and in pain, bleeding again, a moment later. "Come on, kid, get up, get up!"

And he tried. He honest to fucking god tried. His arms didn't listen; they barely twitched. Panic started to settle in, as well as quiet acceptance. It seemed that after all that, all that struggle and hope, he wasn't going to make it out alive. And to think he believed he was invincible. How was it, then, that he was the only one to fall? His body, it hurt. When he coughed, he felt blood trickle from his mouth. After all of this, at the very end, he was about to die. It wasn't fair. He came this far! It wasn't right!

"Overalls, come one, move it, are you alive?" There was a pause and a choking sound and thought the hazy of Ellis' blurry thoughts, he realized Nick was crying. "Look at me, blink or something if you can't talk, come on, do something!"

"I—I'm s-still here," he said, trying desperately to cling to consciousness until the very end. "What're you doin', Nick? Get on the helicopter." Another cough. More blood. His stomach was bleeding. For the first time in his life, he resigned, he gave up. He couldn't do this.

"Only if you move." At any other time Ellis would be so unbelievably happy to find any form of concern in the other man's voice, but now he thought he was just being stupid. "You can do it, just try."

"It's 'bout to leave. I can't make it. Tell Ro' and Coach I say goodbye, 'kay?"

Nick didn't move and instead said, "No, you can tell them hello in a few minutes when you get on the copter with me. You can do this, your legs look fine. Come on, I can't carry you."

The unmistakable sound of the horde reached Ellis' ears. There gun shots, but he couldn't tell if they were near or distant. His vision was dimming. "Go," he said because he didn't have the energy to string together any more words.

"You believe in God, right, Overalls?" said Nick over the gunfire. Ellis was too tried to reply. Never in his twenty-three years of life had he been this tired. "There's no way He let you come this far just have you die now. Work with me, you have to make it."

Weak and disoriented, Ellis laughed, causing blood to bubble from his mouth. "God's dead, we'ave no savior. Jus' move, Nick, please."

Instead of listening and running away to safety, he felt his arm being moved and placed around Nick's shoulders. Help. He was being helped. This wouldn't work, they'd both die, but if he protested more and they stopped now, the chance of the other man surviving was a solid zero. With a great deal of effort of both their parts, Ellis managed to stand.

"Let's move slowly, don't push yourself," said Nick and they started to walk. There was only one gun, but infected were dropping like flies. Moving his legs was the hardest thing he'd ever tried to do. It took all his concentration to put one foot in front of the other. "Come on, we're almost there, we can do it."

"Jus' in case I die." Suddenly, Ellis found himself crying. "I want you to know…I love you, Nick."

There was a pause where he received no reply, not that he expected one. So it surprised him, then, when Nick said, "I love you too, El." In that moment, he was happy.

But he was fading. To him, it was amazing he had lasted this long. Even with Nick, his momentary lifeline, pressed up against his side, this was too hard. _Just a bit longer_, he was telling himself even as his will was failing him¸ _just a bit longer and the pain will go away. _Darkness was gathering at the corners of his eyes. His foot hit something metal. Next to him, Nick laughed.

And when he heard other voices laugh too and felt other arms reach out and grab him, he allowed himself for the barest moment, to hope. Then his vision recedes completely and as he faded into blackness, his head was filled with laughter.


End file.
